A Quiet, Empty House

Dearest Rachel –

I really didn’t need to hurry home as fast as I did, but at the same time, I just didn’t see much point in staying at camp yesterday morning. The counselor training was about to wrap up for the week, so there wouldn’t be as much going on for me to be in the way of, sure; but that also meant that everyone, counselors and trainers alike, would be heading out, so it’s not as if there would really be anyone to hang around with. And if I wanted to just be somewhere by myself, I could do that just as easily at home.

Too easily, in fact. I hadn’t expected it, but I came back to a quiet, empty house. Now, Daniel is usually fairly quiet, apart from whatever he might be watching on YouTube or Rumble, and Logan confines himself to his room during business hours as part of his job (which he now does remotely most of the time; I can’t recall if I told you about that), so a quiet house isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with these days.

But an empty one? That, I never saw coming. Which is mildly embarrassing, as I probably should have seen it coming. This is Whinny City weekend, the annual convention for MLP fans in the area, and you remember going with the boys (and occasionally Erin) while I was still in the workfarce. The thing is, since I don’t attend it, I don’t pay attention to when it shows up on the calendar – and while I might have noticed it was upon us when I would see Logan making his usual preparations for it, I wasn’t home for that, so it completely slipped my mind.

At the same time, I stopped off at the folks’ on my way home – I’d picked up some local cheeses while I was coming back from being up there, at their (well, Dad’s) request – and they reminded me to take care of an errand this weekend that normally would have been something that Daniel would have taken care of. So again, it’s not as if it should have been a surprise for me to see an empty driveway when I pulled in yesterday afternoon. Even if they weren’t going to the convention separately, so that one could leave at a different time than the other, there was also the possibility that Daniel had taken ‘his’ car in to be serviced, either to deal with whatever had caused it to stall the day before I headed out, or to repairs the scratches he’d gotten from the fender bender he’d been in while I was gone.

So none of it should have been a surprise to see when I actually got home, even if it hadn’t crossed my mind when I decided to head for home. And yet, there’s nothing so strange as a quiet empty home.

I suppose you had many days like this, back before you offered to take Chompers in, and while Daniel was at school. I don’t know what you did with those days; I mean, I know you had your FaceBook games for a long time, and you would get out of the house and volunteer at church and the like (as well as taking part in at least one study a week of your own there), but I imagine there were plenty of idle hours in the absence of anyone else for you to deal with.

What did you do in the midst of those moments? I mean, sure, there were plenty of chores around the house to be done; dishes, clothes and the like, but those weren’t all-day, every-day tasks, were they? I’m sure you had plenty of down time, too – did the quiet ever get to you? Or did it never last long enough for you to move past the appreciation stage of it, and slowly find it driving you ever so slightly off the rails? After all, Daniel would come home from school by mid-afternoon, followed by me between six and seven – there would be little silence from that point on, and certainly no emptiness. And once you took in Chompers, well, neither of those were ever going to be a thing again. So maybe this isn’t a thing you can relate to from your past experiences.

And while I’m okay with being alone – probably more so than you ever were – there’s a certain oppressiveness to having no choice but to be this way. Moments, even hours here and there are fine, but when I have no say in the matter, it’s… not nearly so pleasant. Moreover, in too much silence for too long (the boys stayed out until after dark, and even to the point where I couldn’t stay awake to wait up for them), I find myself wondering how long it’s going to last; will this silence define the rest of my life?

It’s why I keep looking for ‘Megumi,’ although it’s been a while since I made any all-out effort to find her (mostly because what previous efforts I made were all but wasted); I don’t like this quiet emptiness, at least as a permanent state. And when you’re in the middle of such a moment, it really does feel like it’s going to go on forever. I don’t want that; I don’t think I can bear with it. Yes, I’ve been able to put up with these few hours, a day or two at a time, but it sometimes seems like it will never end. I know everything does come to an end eventually, but in whatever moment you’re in, it’s hard to see; and in the difficult moments, there’s that twinge of despair that tells you this is how things are going to be from now on – the “new normal,” if you will – and your soul revolts at the thought, even as it wonders if and how things can change.

Today is no better. The boys got home safely last night, as I bid Daniel good morning on my way out to the men’s Bible study, but he and Logan (along with both their cars) were gone by the time I got back. It gives me time to write to you, but I could still use the reassurance that they’re here and okay. I know they’re probably okay, and more than that, having fun, over there, but the stillness is ever so slightly unsettling. I wish your spirit was here to rattle around a bit, just to take the edge off it all.

But in lieu of that, I suppose I should just ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m sure I’m going to need it..